Renewal
by Marmalah
Summary: "Edward," Roy murmured, but he knew that that was a lie, and I did too, though that didn't stop me from wanting to believe that it wasn't.


_;_;_

_All my stories are pretty much drabbles lately..._

_I feel so... uh. _Brief. _-_- I don't like it. _

_NOW YOU CAN ALL HATE ME FOR POSTING STUPID, SHORT, RAMBLY STORIES THAT PROBABLY DON'T MAKE SENSE. 8D_

_Edward's point of view, yay~ It's weird, using "myself" and "I" and stuff. I never do first-person. o.O_

_Er, hope it's not too vague? -crosses fingers- I tend to do that. I guess it doesn't help that I actually know what's happening..._

**_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. Deerrrrrrrp._**

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**Renewal**

I wouldn't let the tears that blurred my vision and burned my eyes fall – I wouldn't be that weak. No, I _couldn't _be weak, especially not in front of Roy. Not in front of the man that I so desperately, hopelessly, miserably loved. If only I knew.

The cold biting at my chest was nothing compared to the burning sensation of Roy's hands on my neck, my stomach, my back, used for both pleasure and pain. I wasn't sure if I minded. Just like that, I was finally left in nothing but my own searing skin.

"Edward," Roy murmured, but he knew that that was a lie, and I did too, though that didn't stop me from wanting to believe that it wasn't.

I wished, way too many times to count, that all of this were real – everything, including the arguments and the bruises and the pain, even – but I was Edward Elric, and I never had such luck. I was the boy who was left with nothing but two metal limbs to carry and a suit of armor for a brother that reminded me of my sins and my ever-present guilt. I was alone, no matter how many people surrounded me and called my name. No matter, being the "Hero of the People". I was alone, left to drown in my own guilt, misery, and failure.

The pains were dulled, though they lingered in the back of my mind as Roy's fingers caressed my skin. The action looked and _felt_ kind, but I knew better than that. Only until I let my guard down would he be what I wanted him not to be. Only until then did he continue spinning his lies.

I felt small and vulnerable; waiting for what I knew was going to happen. I couldn't stop, even it if I tried. I was weak. I was scared. I was trapped. I was mesmerized. Once Roy picked up that bottle, I knew it was all going to go downhill from there. I was in the demon's grasp, and I was hopeless.

When he was a drunken mess – which seemed to happen every night – was when the pain was the worst. He was rough, unforgiving, awkward. None of his movements ever made any sense, and they had no rhythm whatsoever. My nights were always painted in blacks and blues and the occasional red. Always.

The most unbearable seemed to be the mornings, though. Either Roy wouldn't remember anything of the night before, or he'd drown me in countless apologies, of which I'd reply by saying that it was okay. But truthfully, it was everything _besides _okay. Not only did I feel used and betrayed and hurt (and so many other things that would take an eternity and more to say), but I was tired of waiting for Roy to finally get bored of me, just like everyone else.

Months of waiting had done me no good. Even after I was used and dirtied, Roy was still there. He still wanted me. The worst part was that, no matter how many times I tried to convince myself it wasn't true, even if I wasn't perfect, even if I did have two pieces of ugly metal for limbs, someone still wanted me. I wasn't completely ruined, not yet.

* * *

As my golden eyes found his own dark onyx ones, I knew that that was how I'd been tricked.

His eyes were a cool, impassive mask, though I could see the sincerity there that he wasn't going to make this easy for me. His lips were pulled upwards into a knowing smirk and I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails drew blood from my palms. It was his eyes that I loved the most – no, it was his eyes that I _hated_ the most.

Indecision and confusion had always struck me when I was around Roy, leaving my mind to draw a blank. It started that day, so long ago it seemed, when he had come to Resembool. I was young, but I knew why he was there. He wanted to take me away. And if that were true, then I sure as hell would let him, but only if I were to leave kicking and screaming.

I never liked to make anything easy, especially not for Roy.

I supposed this time though it was different. Everything was just _too damn hard _to fight against, and his eyes, the ones that mocked me and filled with knowledge, because he _knew _– whenever they opened, they were too hard to resist. God, I was going to kill him one day. What a wonderful day that would turn out to be.

And if that day happened to be October the third, then be damned, I would've lost everything.

* * *

On that day, when my pants fell and pooled around my ankles, I felt like I had already committed a thousand sins. The worst part was that I knew many, many more would follow.

And all I could seem to think was, _"save me from this living dream."_

That was the first time it had happened – the first time we had sex. His caresses were gentle and soothing, and for the first time I actually felt safe. He hadn't once picked up a bottle, or at least I hadn't noticed. I thought that I had finally done something right in God's eyes, and in return, I was granted temporary happiness and a flickering, little flame of safety. These were feelings that I knew wouldn't last, but I would grasp and cherish it until the time that it disappeared and fell away from me again.

They died away the next day. Yet, even after that, I kept hoping that they would return; maybe I'd get a second chance, because somehow, I had done something wrong and pushed those emotions away.

All I wanted was a second chance.


End file.
